Pitti, devoted to the fair Signora Florinda, and where she now sat
with him she loved. It was fittingly chosen, being in a retired yet
easily accessible angle of the palace; an apartment lofty and large,
yet not so much so as to impart the vacant and lonely feeling that a
large room is wont to do over the feelings of the occupant when
alone.

It was lighted by two extensive windows, reaching nearly from the
ceiling to the floor. The magnificence of the furniture, the rich
and well chosen paintings that ornamented the walls, and in short,
the air of unostentatious richness that struck the beholder on
entering it, showed at once the good taste and general character of
the occupant.

On a little table of elaborate and beautiful workmanship, were
placed with a few rare and favorite books, some curious ornaments
from the hands of the cunning artificers of the East, most
beautifully fancied, and from which a moral might be read telling
the fair occupant of the unhappy state of her own sex in that far
off clime.

The broad, heavy and richly-wrought curtains that tempered the light
admitted through the gorgeously stained glass windows, were of
Tuscan satin, blending, like the skies under which they were
manufactured, a most happy conceit of rich and rosy colors. Pendant
from the hoops in which both were gathered, hung a bunch of ostrich
feathers of showy whiteness belieing, as it were, the country of
their nativity-swarthy Africa. They were more for fancy than for
use, though they did sometimes serve to chase the flies.